The day was humid, sweltering, and hot.
I was plainly miserable and sweating a lot,
As I kicked back in my lawn chair, sucking on ice,
Thinking some A/C would really be nice.
My A/C had busted—to A/C Heaven it reside—
In short, to my horror, my A/C had died.
And I was forced to wait miserably for the mechanic
To fix my A/C—no, no, I would not panic!
A long, cool bath, I decided, is what I needed to do
With “blue island” bubbles for a Caribbean hue.
And I could pretend I was on an island away
And not in Missouri on this hottest of days.
I grabbed a book to read as I sank in the tub,
Knowing as the coolness seeped that I was in love.
Cool and relaxed, I cracked my book to page one,
Knowing deep down the Adventure just begun.
Recall Sir Galahad with eyes blue and blazing?
Wicked of smile and stamina so amazing?
Yes, he was the star as I read that tale again.
I was in the mood for some sex, some love, and some sin.
As I turned the page to the opening chapter,
I was distracted by some low husky laughter.
My green eyes lifted to meet some blue eyes so bold;
My lips gave a smile of the oldest invitation ever sold.
“I understand you’re missing me, my sweet little pet,”
He said, caressing my thigh to see how far he could get.
“You’ve heard right, Sir Galahad—do you want to tumble?”
He nodded wickedly as I whispered, “Get ready to rumble.”
His bold hard hands pulled my naked hips to meet his
And I faltered but a second to whisper, “Oh golly whiz…”
He laughed as he kissed me, his tongue playing grammar—
A question, an exclamation, a statement…a stammer.
He’d fumbled a second when my questing hands drifted South,
But he recovered to stop my mission and quiet my mouth.
“Slowly,” he whispered, “Let’s take it one step at a time…”
So I swiveled my hips to drive him out of his mind.
“Or not,” he groaned, thrusting deep as I gasped.
I leveraged his shoulders as he leveraged my ass.
Then setting back lazily as if he could do this all day,
He rocked me until the world dipped and swayed.
Finally I splintered and shivered in his embrace,
And finally I quieted to look in his face.
“Come, Galahad, to a bed, you’ll admit that’d be new…
Tell me, on a mattress, would you know what to do?”
His wicked eyes twinkled as he gave me a wink.
“I think I can manage. What do you think?”
“I think we should hurry before I take you on the floor.”
He laughed, “Keep talking, luv, and talk dirty some more.”
To the bedroom I led him and with a towel, we did dry,
And with a wicked thought, I touched him to make him sigh.
Then I whispered, “Pay attention. I’m about to speak in tongues.”
Then I put my tongue in his navel to work down to some fun.
“Keep talking,” he grinned. “I pick up languages fast.”
And as I played with fire, he came with a gasp.
With a swallow and a grin, I stood and pushed him to the bed.
“Do what you will,” he grinned. “I’m already dead.”
“Well, you’ll find the afterlife has much more to give.”
“With angels like you,” he swore, “who wants to live?”
“Flatterer,” I charged, as I bounced by his side.
All wolfish, he said, “Lie back, ‘tis your turn to die.”
“Sounds serious,” I teased, and on elbows I sank.
Then his tongue did things that later I’d thank.
“Up,” he commanded, and I said, “I can’t get any higher.”
“On your knees,” he laughed, “I’m about to make you a liar.”
Wanting to scream in frustration, I rolled to shaky knees.
“Very good, now grab the brass bars, like that, if you please…”
“What?” “Just do it,” he demanded with a slap to my rump.
“Tilt your hips just like this, butt up, do not slump.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I returned, just before he thrust home.
Holy shit, that’s the G-spot, I thought with a moan.
My fingers clenched the brass bars as his voice whispered dark,
His words were enchanting as I flew apart.
His right hand slipped to the front with wicked intent—
And those next clever strokes were some of the best seconds spent.
From the front and the back I was gloriously taken,
As my thoughts and my morals were gladly forsaken.
One second I was grasping bars, and the next I let go.
“What’s Heaven look like?” he grinned, “I’d so like to know.”
Then with a touch and a thrust, I was there once again
Followed by the Devil who’d led me to sin.
Finally he let me collapse on the bed so sweet,
And I lay there breathing, deliciously weak.
“How do you do that?” I asked in weak wonder.
“Magic,” he confessed as his kiss took me under.
Here, I must admit, I had to pause for a quick nap—
For all of his virtues, Galahad is one exhausting chap.
But like those days, when the workload is a stress to the max,
I found myself waking, caught in more dreams about sex.
Galahad chuckled as I found myself sprawled across his chest.
“Repeat yourself, lass. I like that part about me best.”
“I’m sure you do,” I muttered, “but don’t you ever snooze?”
“Who can sleep with temptresses as beautiful as you?”
Who can sleep with complimentary come-ons like that?
I straddled his hips before he could take it all back.
I clapped my hands, grinning, “Okay, show me the plan.”
And then Galahad proved once again to be a very talented man.
Before he could finish me, and believe me, I was near done—
The doorbell rang and I hollered in frustration, “Son of a gun!”
Okay, that’s not an exact quotation, but you get the drift,
And I stomped to the front door, belting my hastily donned shift.
“This better be good,” I threatened, pulling open my door,
Not caring I sounded like one bitchy bore.
I stammered to a halt at the man wearing a tool belt and levis,
The devil atwinkle in his bold, blazing blue eyes.
“Well, I’d never brag,” he grinned, “but I’ve been told I’m so,
But if you’re unsatisfied, I’m sure you’re confident to let me know.”
Then I said something meaningful, like, “Gah” or “Uh, sure”
And then showed him into my house without one other word.
“You’re A/C is broken, yes?” he confirmed as I watched him come in.
My Sir Galahad was in the flesh—and he looked just as ready for sin.
“It’s in the back, I’ll show you,” I pulled ahead to keep from staring,
Putting a twitch into my sway in case he was daring.
He fixed my A/C with some clever rewiring and a little TLC,
And as I watched his fingers move, I could only wish it were me.
Finally he grinned, “I’m off for the rest of the day if there is anything more…”
“There is,” I agreed and proceeded to show him on my living room floor.
When I finally let the poor lad up for air and he caught his breath,
He said, “Damn, you’re an insatiable wench, you’ll be my death.”
“Don’t be so hasty,” I smiled, “You’ve yet to see thing one or thing two.”
His gaze lowered to my chest. “That was one thing I didn’t miss on you.”
“Sir Galahad, thank you,” I laughed as his nimble fingers challenged me again.
“You definitely make the day fly by with the expertise you have of sin.”
“You have some expertise yourself,” he confided with a smile that was bad.
“But my name is Joe. Who the heck is Sir Galahad?”
Thursday, June 02, 2005
The Galahad Rhyme
The day was all snowy, windy, and freezing;
The wind rattled the shutters like the big bad wolf wheezing.
But I was warm and cozy in my cabin-like hovel,
Wrapped in a blanket, absorbed in a novel.
Sir Galahad the Chaste, with eyes blue and blazing,
Was in love with a lass whose wit was amazing.
It made me long for a lover with eyes of blue,
Perhaps like the sky or a storm ocean hue.
I set my book on the table and to the window I went,
Staring at the snow in utter wonderment.
And perhaps a wee bit of boredom if the truth be told…
If my love life were bread, it’d be covered in mold.
And here I was, just made for the taking,
On a nothing day perfect but for hours lovemaking.
Merlin the goldfish swam in a ne’er ceasing loop,
Swimming about and around his underwater hoop.
And with a fishy glare, he sternly did say:
“Take care what you wish for on this strangest of days…”
And it’s then you realize you’re insane, it’s true,
When you believe what your fish are saying to you.
Then a knock to the door startled me to know
Who could be wandering about in this cold winter snow?
And when I opened the door, imagine my surprise,
To see Sir Galahad the Chaste with blazing blue eyes.
“Kick him out, kick him out!” I heard Merlin shout,
“He’s a wicked knight and I know what he’s about!
Why he’ll seduce you thoroughly in a thrice and a grin!”
Gee, now there was a reason for not letting him in.
To give Merlin credit, Galahad looked awful sure.
For being so chaste, he looked anything but pure.
But I could hardly tell such a handsome man to go
To face his chances in the ill-begotten snow.
So I bid him entrance with a flirtatious smile,
And he swaggered in with great knightly style.
And when he was warmed and content from the fire,
He flashed a grin to fulfill my every desire.
Then, Sir Galahad, with one sweep of his arm,
Cleared my kitchen table with barbaric-like charm,
And with a smirk to make me tremble to the tips of my feet,
Whispered, “Now, ‘tis time for some boudoir-ish sweets.”
And as we played ‘round the table running,
He gave a growl that was all too cunning;
Then he pinned me to the table flat
And purred in triumph like a cat.
And when I shivered delicious to my toes,
He laughed and tapped me on the nose,
Then flashed a smile, oh, so winning…
Said, “Come now, lass, let’s start to sinning.”
And his hands made quick haste to all my clothes,
Exchanging each article for a series of moans;
And when I was as naked as a Thanksgiving bird,
He looked romantically awed and whispered, “My word.”
Or “Oh God” or “What pretty breasts hast thee…”
I’m not certain what was said, but it was about me.
Then with two curious hands I traced down his blouse,
Delicate as a spider, quiet as a mouse.
Slow as molasses, I peeled away every line,
Undid every lace until he was mine.
I titillated, he teased, and we both did play
Like adult wicked children locked inside for the day.
Rolling about, we bounced from the table to the floor;
Then with a few realignments, we bounced some more.
Slick as two seals across the tile we did frolic,
Passionately drunk as two alcoholics.
And when we were through screwing around on the floor,
I staggered to my feet and leaned against the door.
“What a marvelous idea,” he cried, “my wench insatiable.
Why it’s even more cunning than flat on the table.”
Then before I could inquire what my knight had in mind,
He made it quite evident as he pressed up behind.
I’m a quack, I know, but I swear I could hear,
Merlin smugly saying, “I told you so, dear…”
Twice? you scoff, why next you’ll be saying
That you two were at it before a fire blazing.
Or perhaps a tub full of champagne bubbles?
A chandelier? Would that be too much trouble?
Alas, yes, I must confess the above is quite true.
Amazing stamina he’s got through and through.
Granted the chandelier number was a bit tricky to master,
But his experience saved us from absurd disaster.
And there before the flaming fire roaring,
Before I could settle in for some lady-like snoring,
He grinned, “Perhaps ‘tis time for a nap for me too—
But not before I show you thing one and thing two.”
“Seen ‘em, rode ‘em, and bought the T-shirt—“
I replied lazily with a bit of a smirk.
He tsked and pulled a pair of die from his jeans.
I blinked at them curiously as to what they could mean.
He flicked his wrist and the pink die rolled.
When I read what they wrote, I smiled, “I fold.”
“Sorry, sweets, ‘tis craps, not poker we play…”
“I beg to differ, mister, you’ve played ‘poker’ all day.”
He laughed and proceeded with his little game,
Nibbling in places I could hardly start to name.
His blue eyes were wicked; my wrists pinned with his hand—
“Your turn to roll; you’re detained; you forfeit; you understand…”
And the die scrambled again with expert ease
And his lips moved with his hands in a move meant to please.
And when every bone melted to pound within my skin,
He rolled the die to start all over again.
Then to the bed, he laid me like a virgin bare
At her bridal bower with her husband to share.
He curled me to deep to him as they say of spoons
And sung lullabies to me of suns and moons.
I awoke alone, with no hint of my passionate knight,
No broken dishes, not a roaring fire in sight.
And Merlin swam, blinking, just an innocent fish,
Unaware of my fulfilled fantasy wish.
So I curled back on my couch, deep in my book,
Listening to the wind howl at the shutters of my nook.
Then a jab to my rear caused me to grope blindly and sigh—
And I gasped as I realized I was holding pink die.
The wind rattled the shutters like the big bad wolf wheezing.
But I was warm and cozy in my cabin-like hovel,
Wrapped in a blanket, absorbed in a novel.
Sir Galahad the Chaste, with eyes blue and blazing,
Was in love with a lass whose wit was amazing.
It made me long for a lover with eyes of blue,
Perhaps like the sky or a storm ocean hue.
I set my book on the table and to the window I went,
Staring at the snow in utter wonderment.
And perhaps a wee bit of boredom if the truth be told…
If my love life were bread, it’d be covered in mold.
And here I was, just made for the taking,
On a nothing day perfect but for hours lovemaking.
Merlin the goldfish swam in a ne’er ceasing loop,
Swimming about and around his underwater hoop.
And with a fishy glare, he sternly did say:
“Take care what you wish for on this strangest of days…”
And it’s then you realize you’re insane, it’s true,
When you believe what your fish are saying to you.
Then a knock to the door startled me to know
Who could be wandering about in this cold winter snow?
And when I opened the door, imagine my surprise,
To see Sir Galahad the Chaste with blazing blue eyes.
“Kick him out, kick him out!” I heard Merlin shout,
“He’s a wicked knight and I know what he’s about!
Why he’ll seduce you thoroughly in a thrice and a grin!”
Gee, now there was a reason for not letting him in.
To give Merlin credit, Galahad looked awful sure.
For being so chaste, he looked anything but pure.
But I could hardly tell such a handsome man to go
To face his chances in the ill-begotten snow.
So I bid him entrance with a flirtatious smile,
And he swaggered in with great knightly style.
And when he was warmed and content from the fire,
He flashed a grin to fulfill my every desire.
Then, Sir Galahad, with one sweep of his arm,
Cleared my kitchen table with barbaric-like charm,
And with a smirk to make me tremble to the tips of my feet,
Whispered, “Now, ‘tis time for some boudoir-ish sweets.”
And as we played ‘round the table running,
He gave a growl that was all too cunning;
Then he pinned me to the table flat
And purred in triumph like a cat.
And when I shivered delicious to my toes,
He laughed and tapped me on the nose,
Then flashed a smile, oh, so winning…
Said, “Come now, lass, let’s start to sinning.”
And his hands made quick haste to all my clothes,
Exchanging each article for a series of moans;
And when I was as naked as a Thanksgiving bird,
He looked romantically awed and whispered, “My word.”
Or “Oh God” or “What pretty breasts hast thee…”
I’m not certain what was said, but it was about me.
Then with two curious hands I traced down his blouse,
Delicate as a spider, quiet as a mouse.
Slow as molasses, I peeled away every line,
Undid every lace until he was mine.
I titillated, he teased, and we both did play
Like adult wicked children locked inside for the day.
Rolling about, we bounced from the table to the floor;
Then with a few realignments, we bounced some more.
Slick as two seals across the tile we did frolic,
Passionately drunk as two alcoholics.
And when we were through screwing around on the floor,
I staggered to my feet and leaned against the door.
“What a marvelous idea,” he cried, “my wench insatiable.
Why it’s even more cunning than flat on the table.”
Then before I could inquire what my knight had in mind,
He made it quite evident as he pressed up behind.
I’m a quack, I know, but I swear I could hear,
Merlin smugly saying, “I told you so, dear…”
Twice? you scoff, why next you’ll be saying
That you two were at it before a fire blazing.
Or perhaps a tub full of champagne bubbles?
A chandelier? Would that be too much trouble?
Alas, yes, I must confess the above is quite true.
Amazing stamina he’s got through and through.
Granted the chandelier number was a bit tricky to master,
But his experience saved us from absurd disaster.
And there before the flaming fire roaring,
Before I could settle in for some lady-like snoring,
He grinned, “Perhaps ‘tis time for a nap for me too—
But not before I show you thing one and thing two.”
“Seen ‘em, rode ‘em, and bought the T-shirt—“
I replied lazily with a bit of a smirk.
He tsked and pulled a pair of die from his jeans.
I blinked at them curiously as to what they could mean.
He flicked his wrist and the pink die rolled.
When I read what they wrote, I smiled, “I fold.”
“Sorry, sweets, ‘tis craps, not poker we play…”
“I beg to differ, mister, you’ve played ‘poker’ all day.”
He laughed and proceeded with his little game,
Nibbling in places I could hardly start to name.
His blue eyes were wicked; my wrists pinned with his hand—
“Your turn to roll; you’re detained; you forfeit; you understand…”
And the die scrambled again with expert ease
And his lips moved with his hands in a move meant to please.
And when every bone melted to pound within my skin,
He rolled the die to start all over again.
Then to the bed, he laid me like a virgin bare
At her bridal bower with her husband to share.
He curled me to deep to him as they say of spoons
And sung lullabies to me of suns and moons.
I awoke alone, with no hint of my passionate knight,
No broken dishes, not a roaring fire in sight.
And Merlin swam, blinking, just an innocent fish,
Unaware of my fulfilled fantasy wish.
So I curled back on my couch, deep in my book,
Listening to the wind howl at the shutters of my nook.
Then a jab to my rear caused me to grope blindly and sigh—
And I gasped as I realized I was holding pink die.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Johnny Horton Mania
I'm writing this because I cannot find any tributes to Johnny Horton on the internet. I figure if I, at least, have a blog dedicated to the man, I can type in "Johnny Horton" and "Sugar-Coated Baby" in the same sequence and the WWW will pull up SOMETHING.
Sugar-Coated Baby, by the way, for all those people who haven't heard of Johnny Horton is a catchy little ditty (popular with country music in the late 1950s) that has the cute little memorable line: "She's as sweet as honey all the way around and she's sugar-coated all the way down." And when you heard the man sing it, you could hear the rakish-rougish smile in his voice--and I would think, now here's a guy who could show a girl a good time. Or at least he'd have fun proving you were sugar-coated all the way down. God bless him.
If you have heard of Johnny Horton, you probably have only heard of two songs, "Battle of New Orleans" (which apparently is the only way we American kids even know we fought in the war of 1812, and possibly know that we fought against England), and "North to Alaska". It's more likely you heard of the first song, and it's really likely you're going to your encyclopedia to see if I'm right about us fighting England in 1812.
I am right. I'll wait until you confirm it.
Told you.
For those of you wondering how desperately OLD I am, let me assure you the man had been dead for 15 years before I showed up. Of course, I didn't realize he was dead when I knew him. I was just playing my Dad's records, happy it wasn't Jimmie Rodgers and his Mule Skinner Blues crap. (I don't think Jimmie's so bad now; but when I was 9, he was horrible.) At age 9, when you don't realize there is an FM station (my Dad was good about keeping that a secret), Johnny Horton is peppy, fun, and downright sexy. A little like Elvis. Without the hip action though. And cuter. Johnny Horton never got fat or addicted to drugs. From what I read about the poor guy, he never even drank.
How's this for irony? Johnny Horton, who didn't drink, married Hank Williams' (the first one) widow in 1953 or so. (We all know Hank drank.) Johnny Horton in 1960, right before his second biggest hit (North to Alaska) was released, dies in a car accident: he was killed by a drunk driver. Probably Hank's ghost. You know how jealous men get.
If you want to see the movie that goes with the song, you should check out North to Alaska. It stars John Wayne, so you know it can't be all bad. And it's a bit historical, you could say. It's about the Alaskan gold rush.
Other songs worth hearing by sweet Johnny:
The Mansion You Stole
All For the Love of a Girl
Whispering Pines
Honky Tonk Man
Take Me Like I Am
Words
Counterfeit Love
Miss Marcy
They'll Never Ever Take Her Love From Me
I'm Ready If You're Willing
Hooray For That Little Difference
It's the Same Old Tale (That the Crow Told Me)
A Honky Tonk Mind
Lots of others too...but I seem to be remembering only the ballads at the moment. I would think the four disc CD collection of him is good, but it doesn't have the "Sugar Coated Baby" on it. Travesty!
Sugar-Coated Baby, by the way, for all those people who haven't heard of Johnny Horton is a catchy little ditty (popular with country music in the late 1950s) that has the cute little memorable line: "She's as sweet as honey all the way around and she's sugar-coated all the way down." And when you heard the man sing it, you could hear the rakish-rougish smile in his voice--and I would think, now here's a guy who could show a girl a good time. Or at least he'd have fun proving you were sugar-coated all the way down. God bless him.
If you have heard of Johnny Horton, you probably have only heard of two songs, "Battle of New Orleans" (which apparently is the only way we American kids even know we fought in the war of 1812, and possibly know that we fought against England), and "North to Alaska". It's more likely you heard of the first song, and it's really likely you're going to your encyclopedia to see if I'm right about us fighting England in 1812.
I am right. I'll wait until you confirm it.
Told you.
For those of you wondering how desperately OLD I am, let me assure you the man had been dead for 15 years before I showed up. Of course, I didn't realize he was dead when I knew him. I was just playing my Dad's records, happy it wasn't Jimmie Rodgers and his Mule Skinner Blues crap. (I don't think Jimmie's so bad now; but when I was 9, he was horrible.) At age 9, when you don't realize there is an FM station (my Dad was good about keeping that a secret), Johnny Horton is peppy, fun, and downright sexy. A little like Elvis. Without the hip action though. And cuter. Johnny Horton never got fat or addicted to drugs. From what I read about the poor guy, he never even drank.
How's this for irony? Johnny Horton, who didn't drink, married Hank Williams' (the first one) widow in 1953 or so. (We all know Hank drank.) Johnny Horton in 1960, right before his second biggest hit (North to Alaska) was released, dies in a car accident: he was killed by a drunk driver. Probably Hank's ghost. You know how jealous men get.
If you want to see the movie that goes with the song, you should check out North to Alaska. It stars John Wayne, so you know it can't be all bad. And it's a bit historical, you could say. It's about the Alaskan gold rush.
Other songs worth hearing by sweet Johnny:
The Mansion You Stole
All For the Love of a Girl
Whispering Pines
Honky Tonk Man
Take Me Like I Am
Words
Counterfeit Love
Miss Marcy
They'll Never Ever Take Her Love From Me
I'm Ready If You're Willing
Hooray For That Little Difference
It's the Same Old Tale (That the Crow Told Me)
A Honky Tonk Mind
Lots of others too...but I seem to be remembering only the ballads at the moment. I would think the four disc CD collection of him is good, but it doesn't have the "Sugar Coated Baby" on it. Travesty!
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